


Pansy/Draco ficlets

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abortion, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Making Out, Teenagers, some Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: These are the Pansy/Draco ficlets I've written, as gifts and for a Last Drabble Writer Standing competition. Not every tag is for every ficlet. These aren't all part of the same world; they're almost all about Pansy and Draco as fumbling adolescents, hence the 'underage' tag - though there's nothing explicit.Some darkness, some fluff.





	1. Learn To Keep A Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Learn To Keep A Secret was a gift for scarletladyy, who requested ‘Draco/Pansy, secret.’

Pansy’s never been very good at keeping secrets. The whole school has known about her crush on Draco for years; she always gets caught when she tries passing notes in class. And when she came back from the Come and Go Room after the first time, her dormmates took one look at her tousled hair and bright smile and knew what she and Draco had been doing.

Draco is good at secrets. He started the year vibrating with triumph and rage and now he’s thinner and paler every day, sinking into himself. Pansy doesn’t know why, and when she tried asking once he just buried his face in her shoulder. He won’t talk to her. And that hurts, but she’s willing to let him cling instead. She wants to help him, and doesn’t want to risk their irregular visits to the Come and Go Room, and she’s frightened too.

Especially now. Pansy stares down at the glowing ball of light bumping gently against her abdomen. It’s a bright, pure green. The colour of new life. She feels sick.

She thinks about the creeping grey cloud of the Dark Lord. And what would her mother say? And her NEWTS. She wants to be a journalist and you have to work hard and long right at the beginning, to pay your dues. This isn’t fair.

Madame Pomfrey hands her the aborting potion and tells her a heavy period is normal, but she should come back if it’s anything worse. Pansy bites her lip and Madame Pomfrey seems to guess what she wants to ask. “Remember it’s my job to keep confidentiality. No one will ever know anything about your care from my lips, Miss Parkinson; you’re an adult now.”

Pansy watches Draco that night at dinner. He looks worn down, and Crabbe and Goyle look helpless; they’re doing what he asks, she knows, but it’s not enough.

She’ll give him this gift: he’ll never know.


	2. Sugar and Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco will always be grateful for Astoria’s kindness, but he misses Pansy’s raging like a limb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for round three of a Draco/Pansy Last Drabble Writer Standing.

He’d fallen for Astoria easily, sweet and simple as falling asleep.

She was so charming, and beautiful, too: big blue eyes and light hair that she wore up, tendrils of blonde curling about the nape of her neck. She was kind to him and careful with his bruises. In a world that had turned dark and harsh so suddenly, Astoria was a haven.

Astoria seemed innocent, but she was only two years younger than he was, and not stupid. She’d been fifteen under Amycus Carrow’s philandering eyes, she’d been a Slytherin faced with two more years at Hogwarts, and she’d known he brought the Death Eaters there. She chose him nonetheless and never mentioned his mistakes, and he would never stop being grateful.

She wasn’t like Pansy.

He and Pansy had been friends through puberty: sometimes friendly acquaintances from either side of the gender divide, later adolescent lovers. They’d taken all the rage of youth and first love out on each other. In sixth year, while Vince and Greg remained sullenly compliant, she screamed at him. Her shrieking voice and wet, raging eyes had cut deeply.

She hadn’t said he was weak, or evil, or cruel. She’d said he was stupid.

“Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! Draco how _could_ you? You’ve got to stop, please, you _must_.” And she fell on him, her mouth open and clinging, and he shut his eyes and lost himself in her heat.

They’d fought throughout seventh year and beyond. The day after Draco was acquitted of treason he and Pansy spent seven hours ripping each other’s heads off via owl post before she consented to visit the Manor.

Two months later, he met Astoria.

He’d never planned to fall in love. He hadn’t needed to: Pansy was there, steadfast and confident in her ability to capture him. He’d never thought of another girl seriously until he was fifteen, and after that Draco needed her far too much to let go.

But Astoria was... so different from everyone else. She let him forget his mistakes, where Pansy’s barbed remarks recalled them.

He was sick of taunts, and sick of magnanimous forgiveness from the victors. Why shouldn’t he choose blissful oblivion over Pansy’s angry devotion?

He felt sick the afternoon he introduced Astoria as his girlfriend. After Astoria left, Pansy looked at him with her black eyes snapping. “How utterly boring, Draco. I hope you’re dumping her.”

“I’m asking her to be my wife,” he said quietly, and watched her eyes ice over.

“I see.”

She attended the wedding in rose-pink robes. She comes to every Slytherin night out and she has tea with Draco sometimes. He tells her about his life, tells her about foolish work decisions and the stupid gift he gave Scorpius. She nods and says nothing.

Narcissa once commented on their changed relationship: how nice it was, to see that they’ve grown up into mellow friendship after such a tempestuous relationship as teenagers.

Draco nodded, sick, and agreed it was better now.


	3. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other girls at Hogwarts think Pansy is terribly lucky. She is, but not for the reasons they think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a Draco/Pansy Last Drabble Writer Standing, for the prompt, "a friend is one who knows us, and loves us anyway."
> 
> I tend to think Pansy takes a while to grow out of scorn for/feeling in competition with other women.

The other girls at Hogwarts think Pansy is terribly lucky. She is slumped in an armchair, her legs dangling over one arm and dangerously close to the fireplace. Draco is currently in the process of storming from the common-room. He’s as pink-cheeked as if someone slapped him, and his hand’s clenched round a letter.

If anyone else called his name now, he’d ignore them.

“Draco!”

He stops, the muscles of his back tensing visibly through his school shirt. “What?”

“Don’t duel Potter. It only ends with bloody curses.” She adds before he can interrupt: “generally Potter’s.”

The other girls at Hogwarts also think Draco is unpredictable and enigmatic. If they paid attention as they think they do, they’d know he’s actually as predictable as the sunrise.

Pansy has devoted hours to learning him. She knows him by heart.

“This isn’t an insult to be borne, Pansy! He sent me my wand back and acted like he’d done me some great favour, and now he’s writing to me like we’re _friends_ , asking favours like I owe him – ”

Pansy feels her mouth twist. She knows perfectly well that Draco _does_ owe Potter, but she reserves the right to hate him unrepentantly for the moment Snape told her what had happened in the bathroom – the moment before he told her Draco had survived.

“Arrogant twit. Ignore him like he deserves, Draco; he’s not worth your time. I am, so come sit with me.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt,” Draco drawls, but plops onto the sofa by her nevertheless. Naturally.

“Sometimes,” Pansy agrees, and smirks at the other girls.


	4. Juvenile Delinquency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They sent the Slytherins to a re-education camp over the summer after the war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Round 4 of a Pansy/Draco Last Drabble Writer Standing, and led to me losing comprehensively. (Seriously. Seven Least Favourites.) I quite like it, though. 
> 
> The prompt was [this fanart](http://i48.tinypic.com/whcoia.jpg).

They sent the Slytherins to a re-education camp over the summer after the war.

The Ministry had collaborated with Voldemort, so they couldn’t imprison the students who’d done the same. Instead, they came up with a revoltingly Gryffindor solution: merciful, insufferably self-righteous, and determined to make everyone like them. In all senses of the word.

They bought a concrete warehouse and turned it into a re-education camp, to teach them the error of their ways.

Pansy was sent a letter ordering her to report to the Young Offenders Institute, or risk ‘further sanctions’. She threw the letter at her bedroom wall. That was unsatisfying and she threw a glass after it. 

To be sent to some ‘institute’ to learn to be a nice girl!

The overseers searched her for contraband on arrival. She stood silently, humiliation scorching her from the inside until she felt her body would fall apart, blackened, with the heat of it.

Then they cut off her hair.

Pansy shuddered with the shock of it, loss stealing her breath at the sight of the black tresses abandoned on the concrete. 

She was given a Slytherin Hogwarts uniform and sent to the girls’ dormitory. It had sixteen beds in military rows, and they weren’t allowed to put pictures up. A monitoring spell recorded conversations.

The next day’s lessons were about Muggle contributions to the world and the importance of Muggleborns to the economy.

Already she was less herself. They were going to break her apart, take every marker of Pansy Parkinson to make her into a sweet, faceless member of Dumbledore’s Army.

At lunch she caught sight of white-blond hair and a pointed face and her heart seemed to explode in a starburst of relief. “Draco!”

His head snapped up. His lips parted, his face animating at the sight of her. “Pansy!”

The overseer snapped for silence. Pansy didn’t eat another bite. She sat staring at Draco, while he looked back at her.

That night Pansy sneaked from the room. She and Draco had snogged in Hogwarts’ towers a thousand times. She found a stairway, a big red door marked FIRE EXIT, and there he was: waiting on the roof under starlight, as she’d known he’d be.

Pansy hugged his hard body against her, clinging to certainty. They kissed, their mouths sealing together. They stumbled across the roof together, laughing into each other’s mouths, and Draco straddled the low wall between them and freefall. He grinned up at her, daring. She popped a few shirt buttons and straddled _him_. 

His hands slid into her shorn hair, and suddenly it was hers: the violation of it melted away by his fingers stroking the bare nape of her neck. She curled her hands over his shoulders, sliding her fingers along his contours. Yes: this was still Draco. They hadn’t changed him and they couldn’t take this away: his hands taut on her hips, his taste on her mouth, her name on his lips.

This moment was who she was.


	5. Shiny Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a present for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a Pansy/Draco Last Drabble Writer Standing; the prompt was [this art](http://i46.tinypic.com/2rn7794.jpg).

“Pansy!” Draco grabbed her arm, drawing her away from the crowd of eighth-year Slytherins. She put down her Firewhiskey and pumpkin juice before he could make her drop it and let him pull her, giggling.

“What are you doing? Don’t you want to be out there, celebrating your crushing victory over the Ravenclaws?” Pansy grinned. They’d both been doing just that for hours, and the party was in full swing. After the misery of last year and the seething resentment of this one, this victory was fairy dust in their veins.

Being a pariah left a bitter taste in her mouth, but victory was sweet. Especially since Pansy had made sure her Slytherins went all-out supporting the team: green lipstick and hairclips and paint on their arms and faces. 

“I’ve got you a present.” Draco had one hand hidden behind his back.

“Oh!” Pansy felt her eyes light with avarice. “Keep it quiet or they’ll all want one.” She pressed a finger to her lips, enjoying his irritated look.

It faded into a smile easily; he was drunk and shirtless, and glowing smugly with victory in the firelight. “There’s only one,” he said, and brought his hand forward with a flourish. Balanced between his outstretched fingers, silver wings still flapping, was the Golden Snitch.

“You’re giving me the Snitch?” Pansy melted a little at the idea of Draco yielding his victory to her, but hid it with a wry smile. “Classic Seeker move to get into someone’s knickers.”

“Yes it is. I require a kiss as payment.”

She laughed and put her hand on his. The Snitch’s wings fluttered against her palm as she walked forward into Draco’s arms.

His wiry arms were tight around her, his bare chest pressed to hers, his lips skilled and soft. Pansy slid a hand into his hair and opened her mouth for his tongue.

His hand relaxed, and the Snitch sprang upwards into her grip.

She pulled back, smirking, and waved the Snitch at him. “I may not be a Seeker, but I have my ways to get shiny, pretty things.”

Draco pouted. His lips were stained a little with her green lipstick, and his hands smeared with green paint from the Ss on her arms. His hair gleamed as he tossed his head, imitating her. “I can get it back.”

“Quite possibly,” she agreed, and tasted victory on his tongue.


End file.
